


Brothers

by mskullgirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Kid Fic, Pre-A Game of Thrones
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-10
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-03 20:21:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,705
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4113664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mskullgirl/pseuds/mskullgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 year old Theon, newly arrived at Winterfell gains a small, quiet admirer; five year old Jon Snow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> There is entirely too little Jon/Theon stuff in existence so here is my contribution to the pairing; a story where everything is made of fluff and nothing hurts.

      The first week of his stay at Winterfell Theon kept mostly to himself, only coming out of his room for meals. He cried more than he liked to admit to himself, curled shivering under

the furs on his bed. It was so COLD here, so large and grey, and not at all like the rocky shores of Pyke. The rough northerners scared him, especially Ned Stark, though he had been far

kinder than strictly necessary. His son Robb was nice enough; he often knocked on Theon’s door asking to play, until Lady Stark came to shoo him away, saying the new boy was

homesick and to leave him be.

  
      Ten days after his arrival Theon sat in the great hall, breaking his fast with the other inhabitants of the castle. He had claimed a table at the far end of the room for himself and there

he sat, hunched over his bowl of porridge. Usually no one bothered him when he ate so he was quite surprised when he heard someone climb up on the bench beside him. He turned and

looked down into the face of Ned Stark's bastard son. Theon had only seen the boy in passing, a child of five with a mop of unruly curls and big, sad eyes. They looked up at Theon in

wonder and it seemed the boy had no intention of leaving.

  
      “What?” Theon said sullenly. The child didn’t respond, he only sucked his thumb and continued to stare.

  
      “You’re too old to be carrying that around with you you know.” The older boy said, gesturing at the somewhat worn stuffed wolf the boy was hugging to him. “Only babies have cuddly toys.” Silence.

  
      “You’re Jon Snow right?” Theon continued. “Ned Stark is your father.” Jon nodded once, still sucking his thumb.

  
      “Why don’t you go bother him?” The boy blinked but didn’t move from his spot. Annoyed, Theon strode out of the hall, mumbling about stupid little babies not knowing when to go away.

  
       Another week passed and without fail Jon came and sat beside Theon at every meal. Robb seemed sad that his brother no longer sat with him but Lady Stark didn’t seem to care.

  
      “Do you even talk?” Theon eventually asked, getting tired of the silent staring.

  
      “Yep.” Jon said, lisping ever so slightly.

  
      “Why don’t you then?” The younger boy ducked his head.

  
      “Lady Stark says I talk too much. She says ‘snot polite.”

  
      “Neither is staring at someone like a homely owl.” Theon snapped, taking a bite of toast. Neither spoke for a few moments.

  
      “Your name’s Theon.” Jon said at last, slurring the first “th”.

  
      “Aye, that it is.”

  
      “Father says you’re going to live here with us now.”

  
      “I suppose so.”

  
      “Are you going to be my brother too?” Theon nearly snorted at the idea.

  
      “No.”

  
      “Why not?”

  
      “Because we have different mother’s and fathers.”

  
      “I’ve got a different mother than Robb and HE’S my brother.”

  
      “Oh seven hells!” Theon snapped, rising from the table and stomping off to the courtyard. Maybe he could find a bow and arrow and practice his aim. It wasn’t like he had anything

better to do.

 


	2. Sick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Illness comes to Winterfell. Theon has to babysit.

     A few days later an illness unlike any Theon had ever experienced raged through the castle. Great, rattling coughs filled the hallways and within days nearly everyone of Winterfell’s inhabitants was too sick to get out of bed. The Starks had not been spared; Lord Eddard tried to continue his duties as he had before although he looked deathly pale and sweat glistened on his brow. Both the young Stark children suffered terribly, at least that was what Theon had heard.

     As it turned out, there were advantages to being isolated from all other people in the castle. Since he spend most of his time holed up in his room the illness had passed him over. The castle was far emptier when he ventured out of his hiding place now, quieter too. Not that he much minded; he fixed food for himself when the cooks fell ill, heated water for his own baths, which he barely managed to haul to his room, and amused himself by reading some of Lord Stark's old books. The words were faded and hard to read but he liked looking at the pictures. In truth, Theon couldn’t recall when he had last had so much time to himself and he enjoyed it.

     After two days of this freedom, as he sat on his bed reading, Theon heard a sharp rapping on his door. Brow furrowed he went to open it, peeking to see who it was only to come face to face with Lady Stark.

     “Theon.” She said, breathing a sigh of relief. “Could you please do a favor for me?” It wasn’t really a question and he knew it but he nodded anyhow.

     “I’m so sorry.” she said. “But there’s no one else who isn’t ill. The maester is running himself ragged trying to care for everybody and Robb and Sansa have kept me on my feet all day.” She looked exhausted; her hair was a mess and there were dark purple splotches under her eyes.

     “Could you please just watch him for a few hours?” She gestured beside her where Jon Snow stood, nervously sucking his thumb. He had been so quiet Theon hadn’t noticed the boy until that moment.

     “He’s not sick.” Lady Stark added, glaring slightly at the little boy. “Gods know how. I made him promise not to bother you and to keep quiet, he won’t be any trouble. Please Theon?” The older boy had barely said “yes” before Jon was pushed into the room and Lady Stark was thanking him as she closed the door.

     For a few moments the boys just stood there looking at each other unsure of how to proceed. Theon had always been the baby of the family; he had no idea how he was supposed to act around younger children, much less a child like this.

     “So you didn’t catch it huh?” He asked at last. Jon shook his head once. Theon sighed. So it was more of the silent treatment then. Great.

     “Lady Stark seems pretty on edge.” He continued. “You must have been driving her crazy.”

     “She said I kept getting in the way.” Jon mumbled around his thumb. “I just wanted to see Robb but she wouldn’t let me.”

     “Because she doesn’t want you to get sick idiot.” Theon said, although in truth he didn’t think Lady Stark cared much about Jon’s health.

     “I wish I was sick.” Jon pouted, gaze turned to the floor.”

     “That’s stupid. Why would you want to be sick?”

     “Whenever Robb or Sansa’s sick Lady Stark sits by them and reads them stories and kisses them on the forehead.” A sudden wave of sympathy washed over Theon at the boys words. His father wouldn’t have approved; he would have told Jon to grow up and stop sulking like a baby. But he was only a kid, it wasn’t his fault he was a bastard, or that Lady Stark would never treat him the same way she treated her own children.

     “Come up here.” Theon said, climbing up onto the bed and grabbing his book. Jon stared at him in confusion, not budging an inch. “I can read you a story. It’s about Pyke, where I’m from. And there’s lots of pictures see?” He turned the book towards Jon, showing him a beautiful illustration of a mermaid sunning on a rock. Eyes wide with curiosity Jon scurried up onto the bed and crawled between Theon’s arm and body so he could see the page.

     “Don’t expect me to kiss you though.” Theon warned him, turning to the first page.


	3. The Princess and the Dragon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Theon reads Jon a bedtime story.

    “Come on Snow, not this one again.” Theon groaned. Jon stared up at him, a book clutched to his chest.  
    “The princess one.” He said firmly. Theon rolled his eyes.  
    “We read that one last night. I know, how about the stories about dragons? You like dragons. They’re much more exciting than stupid princesses.”  
    “Princess.” Jon insisted, pouting angrily and thrusting the book towards Theon. The older boy sighed but he took the book and scooted over in the bed so Jon could climb in. He’d come straight from a bath so his hair was damp against Theon’s shoulder.  
    “Once there was a beautiful princess.” The ironborn began, flipping to the first page of the book. “Who lived a tall tower all by herself. It was a fine tower, filled with all the things the princess could ever want. She had a library full of books, a kitchen full of food, a huge feather bed to sleep on...”  
    “And a pet direwolf.” Jon interrupted. Theon let the book fall to his lap.  
    “That’s stupid. Where would she have room to keep a direwolf?”  
    “It could be a little one. It would sleep under her bed.”  
    “Fine,” Theon conceded. “And a pet direwolf.” Jon grinned happily as he cuddled closer to the older boy, eyelids growing heavy.  
    “But the princess was guarded by a giant, fire breathing dragon. Anyone who tried to visit her would be fried to a crisp. So the princess was very lonely. She spent hours staring out of her window and brushing her long blonde hair.”  
    “Brown.” Jon corrected.  
    “Princesses have blonde hair.”  
    “How come?”  
    “Just because.”  
    “But I want to be a princess!” Jon said, twirling a lock of his own, chestnut hair around his finger and looking very much like a kicked puppy. Theon imagined how Balon Greyjoy would have reacted if his son had said the same thing. He winced and quickly put the thought out of his mind.  
    “You can’t be a princess.” He said, playfully ruffling the younger boys hair. “You’d have to be the knight that came and rescued her from the dragon.”  
    “You can be the knight.” Jon said. “I wanna be a princess and wear pretty dresses and have a pet direwolf.” Theon sighed but decided that this particular argument could wait.  
    “FINE.” He snapped. “She had brown curly hair and grey eyes. Now quit interrupting me.” Only a few minutes later, lulled by Theon’s gentle voice, Jon Snow drifted into a deep slumber.


End file.
